


i chase the sun (it chases me)

by geralehane



Series: all i want (is the taste that your lips allow) [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Vampire Clarke, Vampire Lexa, alternative universe, tw blood, vampire clexa au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:38:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6942016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geralehane/pseuds/geralehane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>first in the collection of vampire clexa au drabbles</p><p>//</p><p>Falling in bed with Lexa is as easy as falling in love with her, but it is infinitely less terrifying. Clarke doesn’t need to be good; doesn’t need to feel her heart again after living without it for so long.</p><p>Lexa is calm through all of Clarke’s storms, and Clarke never knows about the scars she leaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i chase the sun (it chases me)

Lexa finds Clarke when she is a young, reckless vampire. She finds her during one of her careless feeds, blood smeared all over her chin and neck, two bodies long cold at her feet, the third one held up by Clarke’s steady hand. Lexa finds Clarke smirking and ripping and falling apart. 

(Clarke finds Lexa in longing gazes at night, in lips curving against her skin, fingertips marking the insides of her thighs)

Clarke doesn’t need Lexa. Clarke is capable; she is strong; she is young. She has an eternity of bad decisions and no accountability ahead, so she doesn’t need Lexa.

(But she finds she wants her)

(Lexa smells like winter and feels like summer)

Lexa is wisdom and patience and Clarke finds that annoying and infuriating, she tells herself (she can deal with something in her lower stomach, sudden and hot, but she can’t deal with something in her chest, aching and longing and hurting her until she looks at Lexa or touches her or makes her smile)

She doesn’t need this; she doesn’t  _need_  anyone. She hasn’t needed anyone since Finn made her and left her and all that remained was a monster.

(But she  _wants_  her)

Falling in bed with Lexa is as easy as falling in love with her, but it is infinitely less terrifying. Clarke doesn’t need to be good; doesn’t need to feel her heart again after living without it for so long.

Lexa is calm through all of Clarke’s storms, and Clarke never knows about the scars she leaves.

“It’s not what you think it is,“ she warns Lexa, warm, still panting Lexa, as she puts her dress back on. Lexa nods. Lexa doesn’t speak much, Clarke has noticed.

(She tries not to pay attention to a soft tug on her heart as she thinks that, because vampires aren’t affectionate; that’s not who they are)

 _It’s really, really not what she thinks it is,_  she tells herself as she slips into Lexa’s bedchambers at night, her dress already pooling around her feet by the time she reaches Lexa’s soft, greedy hands and soft, greedy lips.

Clarke takes too long to realize she’s been right all along; it’s not what Lexa thinks it is, because it’s not just sex anymore.

She’s in love with Lexa. Lexa doesn’t know that.

( _Yet_ , Clarke tells herself)

(One day, Clarke wakes up in her arms and she doesn’t  _need_  this; but she never wants to leave)

Clarke loses Lexa because of her own countless mistakes, past and present and future. Clarke watches as Lexa is dragged away, beaten, bloody, broken; she watches and watches and watches and she wills herself not to look away because it just might be the last time she ever feels her heart beat before it stills again, and she doesn’t find it in herself to believe when Lexa’s ragged whisper of ‘ _we will meet again_ ’ reaches her.

Lexa, turns out, is old and powerful and regal. Clarke, turns out, isn’t enough to shield the old and powerful and regal Lexa from prejudices of her clan.

Lexa is gone and Clarke is lost.

(She hates Lexa for saying they will meet again, because that’s exactly why she can’t ram a stake through her heart; because Lexa made a shaky whispered promise and Clarke silently promised to wait for her in return but waiting hurts and hoping sucks)

(She hates herself for never whispering her love to her because she has something to hold on to but Lexa doesn’t. Didn’t.  _Doesn’t_.)

Lexa finds her several centuries later and it’s in the alley behind a sleazy bar and there’s blood everywhere but it’s not Clarke’s fault, and that’s what Clarke sobs out before collapsing into Lexa’s arms, and Lexa doesn’t doubt her for a second.

(Lexa never doubts her, not even when Clarke’s hands shake as she pours herself a shot, not even when Clarke stumbles on a syringe and makes no move to sweep it under the rug)

(Everything is Clarke’s fault and everyone knows it but Lexa. When Lexa finds out, she refuses to believe it, and Clarke’s long dead lungs expand for the first time in over a hundred years)

Lexa is right, and Clarke was right all along, and they finally get to escape the war and the clans and the scolding gazes that have become fleeting glances over the time (but Clarke still remembers Lexa beaten and bloody and broken and she doesn’t want to take any chances)

(Lexa discovers Clarke through hushed whispers and awed gazes and tender touches, because Clarke didn’t get to do that the first time around and that’s the biggest regret of all her countless regrets)

(Lexa isn’t and never can be one of them)

“It’s not what you think it is,“ Clarke whispers the first night she gets to hold Lexa again after all these years, her naked skin bathed in moonlight and Clarke’s tender gaze.

(She feels Lexa tense up and tightens her hold on her in return.)

“It’s not?“ Lexa’s voice is hoarse; Clarke would blush if she could, because Lexa is hoarse because of her and the knowledge spreads possessive warmth through her no longer hollow chest.

“Never has been. Except for the first time, maybe.“

Lexa’s chuckles are full and wonderful.

“I’m not one for riddles, Clarke.“

“I’m in love with you.“

Lexa is warm and still panting and Clarke has never seen her as deliriously happy as she is in that moment and she’s so, so proud that it’s because of her.

“I’m in love with you, too.“

“Duh.“ Clarke loves the way Lexa smirks; loves the way Lexa swats at her shoulder, the way she pins her under her body, the way she is up and ready for round five or was it six or seven?

Clarke loves Lexa. 

(It doesn’t feel scary anymore)


End file.
